"Well, thou's won th' bet i' gradely style! When wilto coom to Thornleigh Arms to have th' five shillin' paid over?"
"Eh, I doubt Ted 'ud sooner ha' th' five shillin' worth," suggested one of Ted's boon companions.
"I dunno," replied Ted; "I reckon I'd as soon ha' th' brass."
"Ah, but thou'lt coom to Orme's for it?"
"Nay—I fancy one on you had best bring it to my place—hoo met get to hear on 't, ye know," he explained with a sheepish smile.
There was a great guffawing and stamping of feet at this. Ted was slapped on the shoulder, his friends declaring that nobry could beat him. By-and-by he managed to make his escape, and walked pensively homewards, shaking his head now and then, and muttering to himself:—
"Ah, hoo'd happen get to hear on 't if I went yonder; aye, the brass 'ull coom in reet 'nough. I'll say nought about that."
He continued his courting assiduously during the ensuing week, and on the Sunday he and Margaret were "shouted" for the second time.
The ecstasy of his friends knew no bounds. Was there ever such a chap as Ted for a marlock? How long would he keep it up? they wondered. In a day or two the news flew from mouth to mouth that Ted had given the agent six months' notice, and that he had announced his intention of letting his house and taking up his abode at Margaret's after their wedding.
"Well! well!" cried the initiated, casting up their hands and eyes to heaven; the more moderate among them were of the opinion that Ted was carrying things a bit too far, particularly when' it became known that Margaret was boiling hams and killing chickens—yes, Sophia and Ernest, William and Augusta were laid low—in preparation for the forthcoming nuptial feast.